Immortal Shield
by YourMiniMonster
Summary: Apparently, death wasn't the end—it's only the beginning.
1. Death

**Apparently, death wasn't the end—it's only the beginning.**

 **-Immortal Shield-**

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 **AN: I've still to update my other stories, but they will be updated in due time. I just couldn't help but publish this, the idea has been playing around in my head for awhile and I've already finished the next chapter and currently working on the third. I apologize for any spelling errors and I'll probably look back and check over everything again. Anyway, enjoy and feel free to leave a review if you want.**

 **-Before I forget, this is Pre-Twilight but it will lead up and continue off with the edition of my character, everyone else belongs to SM. I'm also going to mention this isn't 'movie' Twilight, this is 'Book' twilight. So no shape-shifters with a stupid tattoo and no Robert Pattinson(did I spell that right?) as Edward-catch my drift?**

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If I had know my life were to take a sudden—if nothing more than horrifying—turn, I would have spent my last moments surrounded by those I held dearest. But that was never meant to be, no last wish, no final goodbye—nothing, nada, zilch. I couldn't help but feel rage at the turning point, white hot unadulterated rage.

I was cheated of the one thing that would have soothed me, calmed my panic and told me everything is going to be okay even though it probably wasn't. I didn't care for words, I wanted to see them, just a small glimpse. I would have told them how much I loved them—I knew I never said it enough but in those fleeting moments where I danced the line between life and death, I could only think about how much I would miss them when I went away.

I never got the chance—it was robbed from me before I even knew what was happening. My world had lit up into a fiery pit of my own personal hell. I could barely make coherent thoughts, everything was rushed along like my whole body was being compressed. I literally thought for a brief moment that I had been shoved into some human sized pressure cooker. I was ready to explode and implode all at the same time and I was more than positive my body was most likely smoking in white wisps. The heat just kept growing and growing, running along the length of my body and ripping me inside out.

It was agonizing. I couldn't tell if I was screaming or if it was someone else, or maybe it was all in my head. Time suddenly didn't seem to matter any more, all I could focus on was my torture. Maybe I really had been thrown into hell and maybe I was doomed to burn for all eternity. Yet what had I done to deserve such harsh treatment? I've never stolen, murdered or even taken drugs—if you exclude painkillers and cough medicine.

It wasn't fair. To be suddenly ripped from a normal life and thrust into a nightmare. Yes, people die all the time however I never thought about myself dying. It never crossed my mind that I would die so young, barely out of high school—I had yet to step out into the world, leave the nest and lead a life of my own and one day create a family of my own.

 _And it was stolen from me._

My dreams, future goals, plans, trips—all _stolen._

Who had done this to me? Or more specifically, _why?_ I had barely begun life and to no longer have it—it was crushing. I wanted to desperately cling on, to live. I had never wished for anything so bad before. I never even knew how much I wanted to live until those exact moments, attempting but failing miserably at opening my eyes, just to see something—anything.

I needed to feel something other than this pain. I just wanted it to end. A quiet and painless death would have suited me better, but living meant too much for me to simply give up. But the liquid lava that coursed through me was almost enough for me to buckle and give up and some small part of me was telling me to just let go, it was useless to fight it. What could I gain from dying anyway? Absolutely nothing. Living was much too valuable to simply give up and walk away.

But that small lingering thought, telling me not to give up—that there was still hope, despite the writhing agony that had sucked me up and spat me out. And I clung onto it like a lifeline, pleading and praying it would end soon. Yet it never did, it just grew more intense like it wanted me to give in.

I don't know how long it went on for. Hours, day, weeks, _months._ I couldn't quite tell, everything just blended together until I was facing the facts of black and white; it wasn't going to end any time soon. Any vein attempt at searching for logic flew out the window, there was no reason for me to be in so much pain and still be semi-conscious of what was happening to my body. I should be in the afterlife, or perhaps lingering as a ghost with unfinished business—limbo I think it's called—but there was nothing there, no black abyss, no white light and no one to greet me on the other side. It was all the same, plain as day, pain.

Maybe this was the afterlife, just a cycle of torture that varies in scales and the further you're sucked down the hotter it gets. I couldn't be sure. I couldn't feel anything else but the pain, even hearing had become a strain and I was grasping at straws to piece everything together, just to make sense of everything. But no theory came to mind so all I could really do was wait and see what happens.

And so I waited.

Patience wasn't a big part in it ether. Rather, I was _in_ patient. Screaming thoughts bounced around my mind, demanding the heat—in these exact words—to just _fuck off._ Unfortunately, it had no effect what so ever under the conditions and only served to anger me further, creating a new flux of curses to ricochet around my mind, each time birthing new and creative swears.

But surely, the heat began to recede.

It started with my fingers and toes. It was like I was being dipped into cool water, soothing and calming—nurturing the burns that had tormented my body. Relief flooded through me, quickly followed by joy that it was all coming to an end, thinking maybe that I had somehow survived and I would be able to live and go back home and just be happy that I'm alive. I would be able to see my family again.

The cold that surfed across my fingers and toes eventually washed its way up my hands and feet, soon followed by my arms and legs. It was painfully slow, almost agonizing at the rate it was going but I was just glad it was all ending. Slowly but surely, I could get back on track and throw away this nightmare like it never happened.

Eventually all that was left was my torso, but I felt the heat ebbing away, leaving a dull burn in the centre of my chest.

Finally, after much time, my eyes cracked open—thrusting me into a world of light and brightly lit colours.


	2. Awakening

**AN: I apologize in advance if there is any spelling mistakes. This chapter is slightly rocky and it makes me nervous posting this, feeling like it's less than perfect. But sometimes you just have to go with it, right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy and feel free to review, your choice. Oh, and before I forget, I will only post chapters when I'm finished the one after. For example; I posted this chapter (chapter 2) and that means I've also finished chapter 3. This means, if something arises which may hinder me unable to write further, I always will have something to back it up in case of emergencies.**

 **Anyway- continue.**

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Clarity.

It was the first thing I noticed. Dancing and swirling above me, simply drifting as if in suspended animation. I didn't have to squint or watch closely—it was just there, within my sight, I didn't have to strain my vision to look. Everything was clear, clearer than before. Things I wouldn't have noticed before suddenly had become bolder and highlighted, creating a colour of its own that held a uniqueness about it that I just couldn't seem look away.

I was entranced by the simplicity of it, silently wondering why I hadn't noticed before. Dust particles had never seemed so pretty to look at up until now.

"Ah, you're finally awake."

The voice startled me, causing me to shoot forward. Before I could process what had happened, my back connected with something solid. Embarrassment flooded through me quickly—realizing that I had basically ran to the other side of the room in fright. I blinked, wide eyed at the speed I had moved at. Or perhaps it was my imagination, I had only just awoken, after all. Yet, I had still to feel the dizzy after effect of moving suddenly, something I had grown accustomed to after years of suffering from anaemia.

I blinked again, my gaze moving to a figure that lingered near the door and unfortunately, the only exit. My breath caught somewhere in my chest, cutting off the flow of oxygen.

It was a man—but a very familiar man. It was easy to notice, seeing as he had been the talk of the town for the past few months. I had only ever met him once when he had stitched up my hand after cutting myself on broken glass. His name is Carlisle Cullen, if I'm remembering correctly. He looked no different from the time I met him and right now—not even a hair out of place. I would be lying to myself if I didn't find him attractive and a part of me was deeply jealous of his good looks. He was something straight from a magazine, airbrushed to perfection.

However, I wondered why he was here. Wherever 'here' was.

I dropped my gaze and took a swift sweep of the room—quickly noticing a white hospital cot in the centre of the room. I presumed that was where I had been sleeping. Other things in the room included a few bookshelves and a large leather black chair in the furthest corner away from me. Besides that, the room was almost barren.

I wasn't in a hospital, that was certain. I couldn't smell the familiar disinfectant and bleach scent—instead, my nose was assaulted by other scents such as vanilla and lavender, I could even smell the leather seat from my position on the other side of the room-something that should be impossible. My nose was never that great. Even odder, I could smell the books that were piled on the shelf. I wrinkled my nose, finding nothing appealing about it.

"No doubt you're confused about where you are," stated Carlisle, taking a few tentative steps further into the room. I locked gazes with him. His eyes still held the strange topaz colour that I remembered. There was no hostility behind them, which relieved me greatly, causing tension to bleed from my shoulders. I relaxed slightly against the wall. He was familiar, but still a stranger. If he tried anything, I'm sure I could outrun him. I hoped.

I hesitantly bobbed my head a moment later, waiting for him to continue.

He smiled slightly and I waited for the small heart flutter I had when I first met him. Surprisingly, it never came. I didn't dwell on it, just glad I wasn't bright red in the face from embarrassment.

"You're at my house, Ivy."

I froze before forcing myself to relax. He probably remembered my name from the first time we met. There was no reason to get worked up.

I swallowed thickly. "H- _why?_ "

I stiffened again, my hand flying up to my mouth. I blinked once more, confused. I felt myself speak, but that wasn't my voice. It was too soft, too... _melodic_. What happened to my voice? I met Carlisle's gaze again, wondering if he had done something to me while I was unconscious. He didn't seem the type to inflict harm or to do anything that could cause distress. I felt my muscles tense as he took another step forward.

"I know you may feel confused, things might even feel a bit strange—but allow me to explain myself." I didn't relax under his calm voice, nor did I speak. He threw me a tight lipped smile, I didn't return it. "However, before I continue, may I ask what you remember before you woke up?"

I frowned at him before attempting to think back. Memories flashed through my mind, unfortunately it was like trudging through thick muck. Everything was blurred and unfocused and I couldn't seem to understand why. It was like looking through a filthy lens that hadn't been cleaned in years—I could make certain things out, but not much. I still remembered what I wanted to do after school, once I had gone to college. But things like images or people I knew had been smudged-Carlisle, however, wasn't someone you could forget easily which was probably the reason I recognized him almost eminently.

I continued to think back, trying to think harder. My last memory felt like it had been tilted and splashed with murky rain water, making it rather difficult to decipher. The only thing I seemed to actually remember was walking home. That was it. Everything else was blotchy and dark. It unnerved me.

I shook my head.

There was a pregnant pause before he eventually nodded in understanding. "After the change, we often find our memories have taken the most damage. Which is unfortunate, but I guess it's for the best you don't remember." he ran a hand through his hair and my frown deepened, not understanding what he meant. "It's rather difficult to explain, so how about I just show you instead?"

He didn't leave me time to reply before he briskly walked toward the bookshelf and pulled something out from on top. He quickly manoeuvred back a few steps and placed the round object onto the cot, face down. "Keep in mind that things will seem a bit different, you might not recognize yourself for a moment. I apologize in advance." he gestured for me to take the object from the bed.

I scowled at him, still not understanding what he meant. I shook it off and took a few hesitant steps toward the cot, plucking the object up before stepping back. It fit into my hands easily before I flipped it over. My gaze flickered to Carlisle for a moment before returning to the object—well, more like hand mirror. "What do you want me to do with this?" I asked quietly, trying to ignore the sound of my voice with much restraint.

"Take a look." he urged gently.

I bit the inside of my cheek and pulled the mirror up so I was facing it directly. For a moment, I almost dropped it and let out a startled squeak in surprise. The first thing I noticed was red—shimmering crimson that glowed against sickly pale skin, causing a contrast that clashed against dark hair. My eyes widened and so did the reflection. I felt my jaw unlock and drop in shock. The reflection mirrored me easily.

A stray hand lifted and I touched my cheek softly, cringing at the abnormal smoothness it gave. Eventually I moved my hand, touching a small button nose before lowering to plump lips.

It wasn't right. This wasn't me. I was plain—average at most. My acne scars were gone—completely vanished along with the black shadows under my eyes from lack of sleep. The only thing familiar was the small freckle on the lower corner of my right eye. But it felt wrong. I wasn't one to stand out, I would rather fade into the background.

But my reflection told another story. She was anything but average with delicate and innocent features, something similar to a porcelain doll—if you ignored the creepy glowing red eyes. It made my stomach twist uneasily and I quickly looked away, tossing the hand mirror onto the cot.

I clenched my fists, refusing to look up at Carlisle. "What did you do to me?" I hissed, anger bubbling up in my chest.

"Will you promise to keep an open mind?" he asked, concern lacing his usually calm and relaxed voice.

"I'm not promising you anything until I know what's going on." I shot back, glaring at the floor.

He sighed and I saw him nod his head from the corner of my eye. "To put it simply, you're immortal—a vampire is the most common title. I know it seems impossible to believe and it's probably a shock to be told this-"

"-More like crazy," I snapped, cutting him off. "There is no such thing as vampires. I'm not immortal ether. Are you trying to freak me out?" I met his gaze, glaring heatedly at him "You probably gave me contacts and as for everything else, a make-up artist can do wonders so don't even try to feed me a bunch of bull-"

This time, he cut me off. "I hate to do this." he sighed, running his hand through his hair again "Are you thirsty, Ivy?"

My glare deepened. "What kind of question is..." I paused, my hand reaching up gently to stroke my throat. It was abrupt, causing me to freeze in place. The dull pain that lingered in the centre of my chest suddenly shot up to the back of my throat, burning and becoming hotter by the second. I gasped, my knees quivering. "What did you do to me?" I croaked out, my voice sounding strangely gritty and strangled.

"I'm truly sorry, Ivy, but you need to feed. Jasper and Emmett have been waiting to take you hunting, to keep you on track and make sure you don't cause any unfortunate accidents you may regret. They will help you." he urge gently, reminding be briefly of my father.

But I couldn't focus, it was like I had swallowed lava and the burning just kept growing and growing. I felt crazed, I thought the heat had finally left but that was just a sweet lie.

I choked, trying to breathe—it only made it worse. "Hunt? Hunt what?"

"Animals. We don't drink from humans. Let's leave the questions for later, you're probably in a lot of discomfort."

 _No shit. Discomfort is an understatement. It fucking hurts._

"Just make it stop," I ground out through clenched teeth.

"I'll go and call Jasper and Emmett now, then. Hang in there, I will only be a moment."

That moment couldn't come fast enough.


End file.
